Hustle Loyalty Respect
by Double-D-Dani n Jessicka Dirty
Summary: On the mean streets of Spirit City two gangs collide. In a world of hustlers, strippers, and burito joints, lies a love story of epic porportions. SLASH OrtonCena mostly.
1. Chapter 1

"I thought you said forty?"

"I don't remember telling you shit punk! Now, get the fuck out of my car."

"Yea, yea. This is garbage, you fuckin' piece of shit," he snatched the twenty out of the man's hand and pointed a finger at his face. "You watch yourself, dog. Punks like me leave cheap scores like you busted and broke," he got out coolly and slammed the car door, leaving the balding man and his dodge behind; he stepped onto the sidewalk and headed down the broken street. Shoving a hand inside his jeans, he began searching for a lighter.

This city, this specific night had him feeling more lonely than usual. It was all the same, cold hands, cold eyes, cold cash, cold heart. Life like this could do nothing by kill the thing inside. That's why some fled to this life but, through it all, it gave you a reason to get up in the morning. Everyone had their kicks. Whether it be sex, drugs, money, or the game itself, he lived for the game. It thrilled him, kept his blood running through his ever iceing veins.

But whatever, whether you hustle, you deal, you use, you take: it's all one big chain of events that led up to you winning of losing, each day giving you the opportunity to make your move. You play or you get the fuck off the streets. But who would want to do a thing like that?

Living a normal life meant you had to deal with normal problems and he, well he wasn't ready for that just yet. The boy in him was too hungry, too reckless and it was all driving him to hell one score at a time. Some people are just self-destructive. Some people you just can't help. Some people aren't living unless they're dying. He put a smoke to his lips.

A car honked. He smiled and yelled at the car. "Hey, what you lookin' for?"

"What YOU lookin' for? Wanna make some bread?"

He walked up to the car and leaned in the window. The man trailed a finger down his chest.

"You like what you see?"

The man smiled. "You got a name gorgeous?"

"...John."


	2. Chapter 2

The Red Velvet: a place far from glamorous, but a reliable place where a man could always get what he wanted, a small, rundown place where a few guys went after work to have a few drinks and watch their fantasy. The Red Velvet strip club: always there when you need it.

The Public Transportation bus pulled up a block away from The Red Velvet and let off its usual passengers: an elderly woman with a shopping bag, another homeless teen, and a young, pretty thing with stunning long legs. The last passenger off made a left at the corner and walked to the side door to The Red Velvet. There, waiting at the door was the same bouncer that was here everyday, a tough brawler type of guy, not one to mess with.

"I thought you would never show up," said the bouncer, arms crossed over his chest. "They only come for you, ya know," The bouncer flashed a smile, exposing the gaps in his mouth from missing teeth.

"Of course I know. I'm the best there is."

The bouncer opened the door for the person to enter and the both of them walked inside. A sign greeted them just inside the door. A big cardboard cut-out of a tall, dark haired, young half naked guy. The sign said "Randy Orton, Your Enjoyment."

"So Randy," said the bouncer turning to face the person next to him. "Are you going to do something special tonight, or is it just the same old ass-shaking shit you always dish out?" the bouncer flashed another smile.

"Don't be jealous Chris that I'm up there and you're not. It's not my fault I was born a perfected work of art." Randy gave his trademark smirk and ran his fingers through his hair. Chris clenched his fist and gave one quick jab to Randy's arm.

"Hey, back off! No one pays to look at bruises." They both began to laugh. "And besides, I might look pretty, but you of all people should know that in a fight, I always come out on top."

"Yeah, Yeah, Yeah, I swear you fucking talk to much. No one cares what you have to say. All they care about is that tasty little ass!" Chris says as Randy heads toward the dressing room. Randy walks in and goes to his locker. No he didn't have anything special for his customers tonight. Why should he? He had something else special for tomorrow tonight. One good thing about Chris is that he always does what you ask. What a good little lapdog, Randy thought. Randy began to strip off his clothes.


	3. Chapter 3

Note: Memories are the parts in brackets -- 

Xxx

Hunter stared down into the glass.

"This fuckin' Shalaylee does absolutely nothing for me." He set the glass down on the bar counter. He heard Finley grunt in the distance. Hunter eyes slowly traveled to where he was in front of him.

"Come On," Shawn lightly punched him on the arm. "It won't be a problem, Trips. They can't stand a chance."

Was it all just a joke?

One big fatal joke.

"You ain't drunk, yet?" Finely said, his Irish accent cutting though Hunter's dazed thoughts. "Friend, you come hur wae tu offtin."

"Look it." Hunter stood up suddenly, knocking his chair and everyone's glasses over. "You only talk when you're spoken to," he grabbed Finlay's collar. "You understand me." His face puffed in anger and grimaced in rage. "I don't need no one's damn opinion."

"Listen, Hunter," Shawn's perked his hands up. He tried to calm me. "There's nothing to worry about." You fooled me. I believed you...and now, you're gone. It's all gone...

"Sorry," Finlay's hand went up in defense. He stared at Hunter with hard eyes. This was far as Trips could punk him. He should be insulted but, none of this matters. None of it.

Hunter turned his attention to the smoky vault that leads to the door. He walked with broad shoulders feeling the stare of everyone in the bar burn through the smoke and neon.

"None of this matters," Hunter said as he pushed the door open and left their curious gazes and fearful hearts.


	4. Chapter 4

I'm a good person. I manage to tell myself that daily. Every morning, I look in the mirror and tell myself that. Does it mean anything? Of course not. In the real world, I'm a bitch. I can destroy people's lives with a snap of my fingers and I have done so many times. I yell, I curse, I scream, I lie, I cheat, I steal, and I feel no regret.

I cheated on my husband last night, with a woman.It wasn't planned or anything, I just did it. In the back of my car i made love to a stranger. The big boss' daughter, the enemy.

It's funny how regret works. Any good therapist would tell you that this is just me feeling guilty for all the shit I've done. But I feel no regret. I feel a tinge of something else as I lay here. My body is still, unmoving as my mind rattles with thoughts. I lay here next to my unattractive, powerful husband of mine, that fucking shmuck. I feel no regret for the act I've commited against Paul and our sacred union.

This tinge of regret that I do feel is because I'm here, sleeping with my true enemy instead of with her, that Stephanie chick.

I quietly slip my body out under the sheets, careful not to wake Paul. I leave the bathroom light off and I shut the door behind me. God I wish I could feel that way again, the way I felt with my body against her. The way my heart stopped when I heard her moan.

Instinctively, my hand opens the medicine cabinet and I grab the first orange bottle I can find. I don't even read the labels anymore. I take three and I'll call her in the morning.


	5. Chapter 5

Author's Chapter Notes:

The lines with the -- 's are song lyrics.

Xxx

Randy Orton peeked out through the black curtain leading to the stage. There was a girl, some broad named Candice, dancing her little tits off. The sleazy music was playing loud to cover the sounds of boredom coming from the crowd. Poor Candice, Randy thought. She will never make enough here to feed her kids, not when I'm here.

He stared out now into the crowd of lost faces. From the dim light of the bar he could make out the usual. A couple no name mechanics, a skinny waitress or two, the trashy fruit-of-a-bartender whose name he thought was Masters, and that same creep that was here everyday, Kane was the only name he gave. Randy let go of a smile. I should just give that guy a pair of my shorts maybe then he'd go away he though to himself. He looked down at his business suit and straightened his tie. The song ended and Candice began to saunter towards the curtain.

"You did good," Randy said to her. He gave her a wink. From the yellow light of the dressing room, he could see her scars, like little forgotten tattoos.

"You think so? I don't know," She paused and looked down at her clear heels. "I always feel so hopeless up there, I don't have what you have Randy. That's why I don't make what you make," She looked up at him. How small and frail she looked. Randy smiled down at her and reached for an envelope in his pants.

"Here sweetie," he said handing her the envelope. "Buy sweet Christine something nice. Let he smile be your hope." Candice let a tear fall from her eyes. She gave him a quick hug as Masters announced Randy's name.

The music qued: a sexy 90's song called 'Black Velvet'. The smoke machine kicked on and Randy took his first slow steps onto the stage. He strutted, hips swishing, towards the pole. He began to tug at his tie slowly with his right hand, left hand stroking the pole suggestively. He pulls the tie over his head, stopping to run his fingers through his hair. He moves toward the pole, and wraps the tie around it. He gives the crowd a smirk and licks his lips, playfully and seductively before pressing himself against the pole, using the tie as a grip.

A new religion that'll bring you to your knees, Black Velvet if you please."

Randy's lips lightly kissed the pole. He dips down; lips drag down the pole, as they would drag across a smooth torso. Randy drops to his knees, leaving two poles between his legs, and pulls off the pinstripe jacket, leaving the sweat damp oxford shirt.

"Time for good stuff," Randy thought to himself as one hand slowly moved toward his fly. As he unzipped his pants, he watches as the crowd collectively moves two inches closer to the stage, mouths open dumbly. Randy tilted his head back, breathing heavy as he moved his hands into his pants, cupped his cock, and gave a few teasing stokes. "I'm a fucking god," he thought.

He smirked; eyes still closed, and dragged his hand out of his fly. The crowd let out a deep sigh.

Always wanting more, he'd leave you longing for.

His hands tailed up to his collar and in one swift motion, the shirt is pulled off. Randy Orton, bare chested god, abs covered in sweat, shiny from the foot lights. His hands rub across his chest, fingers gently pinching his nipples.

"Yes," someone whispers in the audience.

"You like that, daddy?" Randy asks in his seductive deep voice. He bites his lip now, playfully. The audience is begging now, hot breath covers the surrounding. Wallets begin to unhook and the money is being pulled out.

Randy grips the pole and raises himself to his knees. He takes a quick look through the crowd.

"Too bald. Too old. I know he has chicken titties. I'll save him for last. Hmmm...," Randy thought. He spots his victim, a young Latino guy to left of the stage. Randy saunters over to him and gives him a sexy pose. "Would you do me the honor of undoing these pants?" Randy's hands drift down toward his cock, teasing the poor guy.

"Uh...yeah..." The guy's greasy hands reach out and clumsily fumble with the button on his pants. Randy let out a soft moan, sending the guy below him shivers down his spine. When the greasy hands retract, the pants fall.


	6. Chapter 6

"Mmm..hhhmmm..." A deep throated moan escaped from timid lips. The sound coming from two figures in the back seat of a car. "You...almost done?" One man said weakly, his voice trying to keep down the pleasure it was obviously feeling from the other's mouth.

"I thought you said for 35 I could blow you baby?" The man said before getting back to work.

The man receiving laughed a little. "Baby? Shit. I thought I told you my name?" He laughed again and pressed himself more into the guy's mouth. He wanted to get this over with, but then again, the guy wasn't all that bad, he had a feeling the guy wouldn't be happy until he came into his mouth.

The guy pulled away again. "Yes that's right, I'm sorry." The man stroked his cock while he spoke. "You're names John right?" He smiled and dipped his head down again.

"Ahh...yea, its John." John closed his eyes as the guy wrapped his arms around his hips. He wanted to make sure John wouldn't pull away. John scoffed a little at the close contact and looked out the window. How long was this gonna last? Shit he'd been with this trick for about thirty minutes now. This shit was getting ridiculous. He knew he had to get it finished with, and that he needed to at least pull 15 more dollars from this guy.

He ran a hand through the tricks hair and arched against him. "Ahh oh yea baby...work that...mmm, oohhh...oh..." John moaned out with silken pleasure. He began to slowly thrust in and out of the man's mouth; he heard the man's soft moans as he sucked John. John smirked and leaned his head back; closing his eyes, "Shit honey, that feels...so damn good...ahh..." He was pulling out all the slutty stops, the guy must like to suck dick because he had a whole lot of John inside his mouth and he was sucking and working him like his dick was his final dying wish.

John's body was slowly loosing control, I mean, what guy's head wouldn't be spinning from getting sucked like that? He began to thrust into the man's mouth with more speed, gripping the back of the seat, John moaned and ripped at the guy's hair. "Ahhh...ah...mm...yea...ohh...yea...ahh...yea...WHAT THE FUCK!?" He pushed the guy away and sat forward looking at the bright lights that blared to the side of him. "Fuck!" He cursed as the trick scrambled to get into the front seat.

"Hmm what are yooouuu two doin?" Came a snide comment from one frosted haired beefy dude. Mitch. Officer Mitch. God John hated that guy. John smirked and got out of the car, zipping up his pants and readjusting his shirt.

"Yo what does it look like were doing? Can't the boys have a little privacy or you just a PERVERT Officer Mitch, Sir." he said in a cocky ass tone, he was going to be dragged to the damn police department tonight, shit. He didn't even get his money, all for nothin. God please by all means damn Officer Mitch to one slimy ass hell, at least for that damn hairstyle he insists on keeping.

He turned to look at the man in the car, but shit, he was already speeding off now. "COME BACK HERE DAMN YOU!!!!" Screamed Mitch in that annoying ass tone of his. He threw his baton in the direction of the car.

"Yo man, chill." Mitch's face turned red and he got all creepy looking, deranged some might say. He placed a hand on Mitch's shoulder. "Calm down, alright. Look, go pick up your happy stick off the goddamn street and stop acting like a fucking retard." He patted him on the shoulder and then continued straightening up his clothes. Mitch just huffed and puffed before coming to his senses and ran over to his baton, picked it up and ran back over to John. "You one crazy dude Mitch"

"Yea well! You're hitting the slammer tonight and that wasn't a punny, sonny!" John just looked at him like he was truly incompetent and just laughed.

"No problem Officer Mitch, I wouldn't want to make you mad, oh no, oh no." He said in a sarcastic humorous tone. Even putting a hand over his mouth like he was frightened in a very feminine way. He laughed and walked over to the police car.

"PUT YOUR HANDS ON THE VEHICLE NOW!" Mitch screamed. John rolled his eyes and put his hands on the hood of the car. John grimaced a little when he felt Mitch's hands being a little to friendly.

"Ah ah ah, whoa! What the hell-"

"SHUT UP AND KEEP YOURSELF AGAINST THE CAR!!" John bit his lip, this was pure bullshit. He laughed to himself as he felt Mitch's hand on his ass.


	7. Chapter 7

We walked up to the front door. My husband and I. It was beaten down and old. The lock looked like it had been kicked in again and again. The paint was peeling, the old olive green color reminded me of that stint I did in the crazy house. A simple bipolar disorder turned nasty. I admit. I have very nasty tendencies.

He knocked with a big fat fist. I don't even remember the last time I knocked on a door. I didn't want to break a nail. When was the last time I didn't have my nails done. My hair perfect. When was the last time I showed my face? There was the usual shuffling behind the door.

"Why are we here Paul, this place is a shit hole, and look at my damn shoes!" My new Prada stilettos, scuffed to hell and back.

"Well Melina, if you would stop worrying about your shoes, you would know that this is the house of the great and honorable suicidal, homicidal death defying Sabu!"

I couldn't help but to wear a stupid face.

"Sweetie, Sabu is dead." More shuffling behind the door. Paul knocked again.

"Yes Melina, I know that Sabu is dead. It's the hard truth and I know that it's been tough for us to deal with something so truly awful, but you see this is now the house of the widow."

I remember that funeral well. That cheap funeral parlor, the bad food, and the over dramatic speeches. I never understood why everyone loved him. I don't even recall hearing him speak.

"Kelly is a very special girl and she is having a very hard time and I've offered to help her."

"I get it. You don't have to explain anymore"

The steps inside the door grew louder and the door finally swung open.

"Kelly, my dear Kelly." Paul stepped into the room and clasped Kelly's hand within his. God, I could see the roaches practically crawling out the door.

"Paul, I'm so glad you came," machine like, her voice, her face, a god damn doll.

"May we come in? I have some things I would like to discuss with you," she opened the door wider and motioned for us to come in. I couldn't keep my eyes off of her face. I wanted to see it change even for a second.

My heels made the same annoying tapping sound on the hardwood floor. It was an awful sound but it got people to notice me. Kelly noticed me, her blank expression lowering to my heels.

"Do you want anything?" Kelly asked in her robotic housewife voice. I continued to stare into her blank face.

"No, I just really want to sit down." I hear Paul making his approval sounds as he studied the hallway. Kelly made some attempt at a smile and her hands swept towards the door at the end of the hall.

"This way," she said. She laid a hand on Paul's shoulder lightly and took it away. I followed her, tap, tap, tapping my ass down the long sick looking hallway.


	8. Chapter 8

"Could someone get a god damn ambulance! For fuck's sake, this is the third time this week." Chris stared down at the partly unconscious man below him. Kane was his name. The dying guy on the floor. Kane was hardly breathing but a smile, a big gleaming; hideous smile remained on his huge, monstrous face. Chris reached down and took a twenty dollar bill out of Kane's thick long fingers and raised it in the air.

"Hey Randy, this is yours." Chris looked up at Randy. He was sexy, that was obvious, and he looked even sexier with sweat dripping down his abs into his shorts, come on. Was he really that drop dead sexy to literally make a guy drop dead and have an asthma attack on the sticky floor of a trashy strip club? Chris didn't think so but he hoped that a certain friend of his would.

Randy reached and took the twenty. "What did you do to him this time?" Chris asked, sounding annoyed. "Did you give him the grand fucking finale and whip your cock out?" Randy smirked and took a hold of his package.

"This? Naw, this ain't for everyone. If I did, I would've killed my best costumer." Kane was panting harder now on the floor, his face turning purple. The smile was still planted on his face.

"Hey Masters, you big faggot, did you call the fucking hospital yet?!" Chris yelled towards the bar. Masters pointed at the phone and gave a thumbs up. Chris looked back down at Kane, checking to make sure the guy was still breathing.

"God damn look at the fucking monster in his pants, what did you do to him?" Randy laughed and took a few steps toward the bar. "I kissed him, on the cheek, that's all it takes." Randy walked to the bar. Every eye in the joint following him before he sat down at a stool. "Hey, give me something strong, I don't want to drive tonight." Randy told the unattractive bartender. He was wearing that same sleazy leather vest he wore every night, the one covered in cum stains that the black light off the bar could pick up. When Masters came back with his drink he said. "Look, keep the change and get out of here. An ugly business like this is meant for beautiful people. You don't belong." Masters glared at Randy, with menacingly small eyes.

"This business needs a Masterpiece like myself." he retorted.

"Go home to your husband, and shut the fuck up."

Masters snatched the twenty off the bar and stormed away. Randy took his drink and slid off his chair. He slowly walked toward the corner of the small bar and with one quick snatch, took the dollars from the tip jar. One by one the crowd began to disappear. Their enjoyment was over. None of the costumers of the Red Velvet came for the girls. They came for the real deal, the perfected work of art. One by one the costumers turned for one last look at Randy sitting by the bar or Randy talking to the bouncer. Randy, they would think, as they went home to their wives.


	9. Chapter 9

"Kelly, as you know I was a most dear friend to your husband and it would be a dishonor to his great name if I didn't take on a sort of responsibility to you." I couldn't help but to roll my eyes. Paul always found a way to glorify things.

"Sure," Kelly replied, opening the door. With the door only opened a crack, I could see a light. A fucking blinding light.

"What is that!" I couldn't stop myself from screaming. This bitch was fucking crazy. How does anyone get like this?

"Now, Melina calm down." The door opened wider and I shielded my eyes. Paul covered his too.

"I kept all of his clothes. They are so...pretty."

"I'm waiting in the car," I turned, tap, tap, tapping toward the green door but, Paul's hand reached out and yanked my arm back.

"Now, Melina, it's not very nice to decline on someone's hospitality," Paul made a sappy smile at Kelly and turned back to me.

"I don't give a shit," I said. I tried to pull my arm away but Paul's grip was tight.

In a harsh whisper he spat at me, "You will accept Kelly's hospitality and you will give a shit! You will sit down and you will shut up and have a glass of whatever and you will enjoy it." His ball cap was shaking off his head, his ponytail quivered.

"Whatever you say Paul, just don't make a scene." If someone saw Kelly's face right now, you would have never thought she hadn't seen anything. You would have thought she was blind and deaf. You would've thought she was dead. I broke Paul's grip and with my eyes covered, I walked into the bright room. Tap, tap, tapping in my stupid shoes.

"Kelly, you have a wonderful home," Paul said as he followed me. I tried feeling around for a chair, something to sit on. That was a T.V., that's a table, oh finally; with my eyes closed I only saw the same thing. That same ridiculous light. "May I ask what kind of lighting this is? It's so bright and festive in here," I heard Paul's foot kick the table I had groped. I hope he never found this couch. I didn't want him next to me.

"Just a light...it shines...off the walls," her voice was next to me. Could she see me? I wouldn't put it past her to have some sort of X-ray vision to go with her machine gun tits.

"Oh, I see. You have his pants on the walls." More of Paul's approval sounds.

"Yes, every last one," her voice seemed right in my ear. I kept my mouth tight and scratched on the arm of the couch.

"Could I, perhaps see a pair?" What the hell were they talking about? Why the hell am I here?!

Kelly's footsteps, ruffling of fabric, God I wish I could see. Paul could be having sex right here with twenty different girls and I wouldn't know it. I could be having sex too. Right here; with Stephanie. Paul would never know it.

"I can't get-I can't get them off." Was that a note of real emotion in her voice or was I just imaging it? "I can't take off the clothes."

"Kelly. Kelly, its okay. Don't worry about it. You see what I'm really worried about is you Kelly. Now, I have a proposition for you and I need to know what you think." Was it really his fucking pants that was blinding this room? I mean yeah, o.k. he had some pretty sparkly pants but for fuck's sake. "Kelly, I think that you should move in with us. I think that together we can work through the pain of our loss and come out as better people." Why does everything have to be so crazy like this? Is there anything normal anymore in my life?

"Sure, Paul. Whatever you say."


	10. Chapter 10

It was a dark room. Shadows moved aggressively in rapid motion to the music of rough moaning. The only light seeped in from the street corner and as the cars passes by it sent the images spinning across the walls as a loud guttural cry was released. The climax.

Chris Masters sat up and breathed heavily. It's been so long. Is that why it feels so real? "Are you going to pay me to go away?," his body suddenly convulsed in a violent sob. A pale rough knuckled hand touched his shoulder comfortingly.

"Now, why would I do that?," his lover said in a voice that rose an octave higher suddenly.

"Bec-because everything always goes wrong. Everything..." His eyes lifted to the window where the curtains had been ripped off. His eyes gleamed with brimming tears. "I've put a lock-a master lock on my heart."

"I know. I have opened it with my blood, with my sweat, with my tears, Chris. I love you."

"No...no...you don't begin to know," Chris laid back into the soft cushion that was his lover. He couldn't imagine barb wire and nails stuck in that body like a push pillow but, then again a push pillow was Chris' life: the needles piercing the inner cotton of his soul. "As a child, life for me was so confusing. Nothing ever made sense. My mother, Chi Chi wasn't a woman nor a man but a damn Brazilian trany!-" A loud gasp broke in a sob cutting off his words and Chris gasped for air in the palms of his hands.

"But, the how could she give-"

"No. No. No, it gets worse. My father was a romance novelist. A fuckin' romance novelist!," Chris rose his fists in anger.

"So. That's okay. We're all embarrassed by out family once in our life."

"No. He was an f'n French-"

"What's wrong with a French romance novelist?"

"He was a French Canadian romance novelist!"

"Oh...I see."

"I thought I could escape it all. Escape the lock of that small suburban town. Escape the French Canadian romance stories. The porn magazine that would stalk my Brazilian trany mother but, I only locked myself into another problem."

"I see...life can get...hardcore."

"Rikishi, my first love, he took me away from all of this...pain and struggle. But, he was dirty. That bastard gave me gonorrhea and left me...all alone..."

"Oh...Chris."

"Then, there was Gregory Helms. He was my super hero, my green lantern in the darkness of disease and heartbreak but, all he did was sweep me off my feet and left me in a nuclear test facility like some contagious kryptonite..."

"Chris, I understand."

"No! No, you don't," Chris turned to him suddenly. "All you are is just a glorified Fuck-man!"

His lover looked hurt suddenly. Chris could feel the master lock on his heart crumbling. "No...no, my love. I didn't mean that." Chris lifted his hands on his lover's shoulders. "I love you."

"I love you, Chris," His lover's smile was like his life; full of black holes. He felt like maybe he could understand all this pain and all this hurt.


	11. Chapter 11

"WAKE UP! WAKE UP, LITA!"

"Uhh...Amy, call me Amy."

"GAH! Did you see that!?"

"What?," Amy rolled on her side and looked at the window Adam was pointing at.

"IT'S GONE! DAMMIT!," Adam scrambled out of bed. He walked to the window and knocked on it. "I SAW YOU, ASSHOLE!," he looked terrified.

"Adam, it was probably just you imagination..."

"NO! NO! IT WASN'T! I'VE BEEN SEEING THAT DAMN THING FOR WEEKS!"

"...What does it look like? Is it a person?," Amy sat up, rubbing her eyes.

Adam looked at her like a wild animal. "IT'S THE BOOGEYMAN!"

"WHAT?!," Amy looked around for worms.

"NO! NO! NO! Not THAT Boogeyman. This one has a huge round head!," Adam began to pace as Amy shoot him an annoyed look.

"Whatever. Go to sleep."

"I CAN'T!"

Amy tosses a pillow at him, "Yes you can. Just lie down and stop breathing like that."

"GAH!"


	12. Chapter 12

The ambulance finally arrived as Randy was enhaleling his fifth drink tonight.

"God Dammit what took you assholes so long!" Chris yelled at the attending doctor. The doctor stopped hauling in the stretcher and gave a hard look at Chris. He was young and muscular; his body was dripping in masculine class.

"Look sir, the hospital is a little backed up. We got here as fast as we could." Chris looked up at the man before him with the same sort of face the costumers gave Randy.

"I'm sorry. I just don't like people dying on my watch." The doctor gave a small smile.

"I don't like people dying either." The doctor took a deep breath and bent down at Kane's side. Kane looked back at him and his smile retracted.

"Well, he is breathing just fine now. He looks a little pale but..."

"He always looks like that." Chris said, eyes still on the doctor.

"Oh, well ok then, my job here is done." Chris helped the doctor back to his feet as Kane sat up ominously and glanced across the room.

"Does he always act like that too?" the doctor whispered casually to Chris.

"Oh yeah, the fucker's always like this." The two stared at each other, eyes locked in place, seeing through each other's heads. Kane got up and placed two huge hands on the stretcher.

"I...see...," he said in a throaty whisper. He began to walk the stretcher out of the building.

"Ummm, excuse me, what the hell are you?," The doctor asked placing a hand on the beast's shoulder. Kane turned around and gave a sadistic glare to the doctor. He took his hand away. The stretcher made a terrible squeaking sound and Kane rolled it down the empty street and out of sight. The two men stood wordless as Randy stomped toward them from out of the backroom.

"Hey Chris!" Randy screamed obnoxiously. "You're driving man; I've had way too much to drink!" Chris rolled his eyes and took another last good look at the doctor.

"I'll go." The doctor said and made his way towards the door.

"Wait," Chris ran and blocked the door with his arm. "I'm sorry about the crazy guy, but if you give me your name, I'll come by your office...or something tomorrow and pay you back for it," Randy smiled, watching his friend drool in the door way. He mouthed the words "oh my god" and rolled his eyes.

"The name is Doctor Batista, but payment won't be necessary."

"Well, maybe I'll just stop by anyway."

"Yeah, maybe." Chris stepped away from the door but his eyes followed Batista out the door and back to the ambulance.

"Now what the hell was THAT about?," Randy asked, staggering toward Chris and the way out of the club.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Randy reached out and harshly grabbed Chris' shoulder. He blinked his eyes dramatically; all of his movements were altered from the alcohol pushing its way through his blood.

"You...you dog," Randy pointed a long finger in Chris' face before it was swatted away.

"Shut up or you're walking home."

"So, you like those brute guys? Shit, if you said something earlier I coulda hooked you up with Kane."

"I said shut the fuck up!," Chris pushed Randy out the front door and turned to lock it. "Hey, don't forget about tomorrow night," Chris said as they both walked toward Chris' beat up two seater. "That girl is really looking forward to getting with you so don't fuck it up." Randy smiled a drunken smile.

"What makes you think I'll fuck it up?," Randy's voice was slurred; the alcohol was rushing to his head.

"Because you fuck up everything, Randy! Now, get in the fucking car!," Chris slammed his fists on the car hood.

"No," Randy said pointing lazily to the street. "I'll walk."

"Fine, that's fucking fine but if Kane violates you in a back alley, don't you come bitchin' to me," Chris jerked the car door open and got inside.

"What's your fucking problem, Chris?" Chris closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"Nothing. Just don't forget." The car door slammed and the engine started.

"Hey, I don't care if you like guys," Randy laughed. "It's cool."

"Yeah, it's pretty cool. You'll love it." The rusty car pulled out of the empty drive way, leaving Randy alone in the dark night.

"I'll love it?" Randy said to himself before staggering out into the street.


	13. Chapter 13

"Wakey, Wakey," Mitch ran his baton obnoxiously across the bars of the cell. John glanced at the clock on the wall. What the fuck? He's been in here for one hour tops.

"You don't have to yell. I'm up. I can't sleep in this dump man," he got up lazily off the bench and rubbed his eyes. He rubbed his neck as a small groan escaped his lips. He walked toward the bars and grabbed them, pressing his forehead against them gently. He looked into Mitch's eyes, his gaze calm as a small smile lay upon his lips. "What's the problem, officer?"

Mitch just gave him a menacing look but, returned the smile nonetheless. John and Mitch looked at one another, the silence becoming just a little more awkward by the moment. Then Mitch blurted out, "You got someone here to see you punk!"

John lifted his eyebrows. His face still showing signs of amusement.

"John Cena," a gruff and powerful voice cut through the air. John's smile widened. He pushed himself from the bars and slid his hands in his pockets. His strong blue eyes meeting a set of scolding ones as Mitch and his visitor entered his cell.

"Well, well, it's nice to see you too Mr. McMahon. How's the wife, the kids? Shane get knocked up again?"

McMahon just lowered his eyes as John gave him a triumphant little smirk. "John, I'm in no such mood."

"You know that's too bad cau-"

"Shut your mouth."

"What! Shu-"

"Shut up John."

John giggled and said, "Now, I know you didn't just-"

"You do want to get out of here? Don't you John?"

"Nah, I don't mind it. I mean-"

"HEY GUYS WANT SOME NUTS?!," Mitch just stood there chomping away. Vince just stared forward ignoring Mitch, taking a deep breath. John placed a hand on Mitch's shoulder. He looked down and shook his head, laughing softly. He sighed in a playful sort of way and smacked Mitch on the back causing the poor guy to choke.

Vince couldn't help but smile. "John...this has got to stop."

"Why? Because big daddy doesn't gain any profit from my cock?," he got in Vince's face grabbing his own dick for emphasis. A few nuts fell from Mitch's mouth.

Vince stared at him disapprovingly, "John, will talk about this later. Now, if I were you, I would be thanking me for getting you off tonight."

John licked his lips quickly. "You're right Vince. From the bottom of my heart," he put a hand on his chest. "Thank you." Abruptly, he smacked Mitch's nut can out of his hand, the nuts smacking Vince's chest and face. "A-Hah!" He laughed and ruffled Mitch's hair. Then, he walked out happily.

"GODDAMN HIM!"


	14. Chapter 14

He walked down the empty street, the lonely street. The liquor streamed into his brain and out again into his liver, making it a little worse then before. His brain, it felt too heavy for his neck, it was too heavy to carry. Heavy with thoughts.

This life, this dirty life. I cleansed away the clean life with this dirt. I cleansed myself from my daddy's money and my mother's strong grip. I feel so fucking dirty.

His drunken head was spinning so hard, his hand grabbing the wall for support. His body fell against it, heavily, awkwardly and his knees gave way.

Oh, how I love this dirty life.

Against the dirty wall, the young man laid his lips. His knees scratched and scraped against the pavement, skin breaking and peeling. The lips touching the wall: an incomplete connection. This taste, this wretched taste as his tongue glazed over the brick.

This is what I want

He pushed his cock against the wall. The hard feel of the old cracking brick through his jeans sent his blood running wild. His hands pushed hard into the wall, skin rubbing roughly into the rock. The stinging pain felt good. Oh, so good.

Why do I do such things? I always fuck up everything. I always fuck myself over. Oh yes, I do.

His tongue continued to play over the cement cracks, tracing the lines as he laid his lips on it again. Over and over.

I always do.

His cock was so hard now as he pushed it fiercely against the wall. Harder. Rougher. More. More. Faster. More.

Yes! Yes! I'm nothing but filth!

The alcohol was really taking hold. The ecstasy of arousal was taking away his mind. The harder he pushed, the more his mind washed away through his now bleeding hands.

Take me. Oh...God, take me now. Take me away from all this filth!

His cock was sore and aching, but he never really felt it. Enticed by the crude texture of the brick, he jerked his hips faster into his new lover.

Take me, you fucking bitch, take me now...

His pulse was pounding. His blood was flowing. His heart was racing, but he wasn't breathing.

Make me clean again.

Suddenly, he came. The hot liquid dripped down his thigh. Hot. Sticky. Dirty.

He lifted his lips from the wall and laid his body down on the sidewalk.

"Thank you," Randy, dazed said to the twinkling stars above him.

"For what?," A man's voice, a smooth, warm voice sent a shiver down Randy's spine.

"For Everything."


	15. Chapter 15

John stepped onto the street, the yellow lights shining down on him like some omnipresent energy, an energy that always fueled its captors, but at the very same time felt like it drained something from you. John let his eyes sweep across the dark street. His mind drinking up that very energy, an evening so fine it could drive a young man crazy, hell, he was just a boy falling in love with the shadows, always the shadows. They didn't reflect a goddamn thing but one couldn't help but to be captivated by the strange and exotic shapes. He was letting his mind drift. He shook his head loose from such small thoughts and watched the night unfold.

From the corner of his eye, he could see a tall figure approach a brick wall in the distance. A man with a lean shape drunkenly pressed himself seductively against the brick. The glass crushed underneath his feet. Rocking against the brick, he kissed and whispered to it. His hips pulsed sexually as his lips open to the uninviting wall. John had seen many strange things in his life. He had seen a man bring him many a strange object suggestively but, he had never seen someone give their juices to an inanimate brick wall.

A curious excitement rose inside of him. He quietly walked near the scene. The man was beautiful. The curve of his torso, the curve of his thighs, the angles of his face, the seemingly softness of his lips, the grace that he rhythmically rocked with was that of a Greek god. John felt something well up inside of him. Behind the man the shadows hid all else yet, John could no longer love these shadows. It was if he were mystified by some strange spell. He felt like Venus stumbling upon the unaware Adonis. The street light played off the sweat that coursed down the man's body. John felt the tingle in his guts. He felt the blood warming in his limbs and rushing so quickly he couldn't even process a thought. Suddenly, as he watched the beautiful man give himself completely, everything seemed meaningless. The game, the scores, the drugs, the hustlers, the lights, and even the shadows were nothing but illusions. The only thing that was real was real beauty. And John could believe in nothing but this. As the man let out moan so sweet it sent chills down John's spine, it merged the subconscious realization in John that this man was pure passion and was all that he had ever thought love could be. Without needing a word, without knowing it, John was completely in love.

"Thank you," the man suddenly said.

"For what?," John barely asked.

"For everything." John felt the waters in him cool. He suddenly regained his conscience. The man laid there on the floor. Eyes closed so delicately. John pushed all thoughts behind. What was he thinking? Oh God, what could he possibly think in a moment like this? His head was completely blank. "Hey homie, did you just get off to that brick wall?," John asked smiling coolly.


	16. Chapter 16

"Look it, guys, if you don't quit with all this 'I'm bald', 'My ass is too big" shit, I'm gonna break both of your freakin' ankles!" Kurt's eyes were wide and his head shook back and forth like a bobble head in the wind. His hand pointing in Show's and Rob's direction, he said almost calmly 'Got it?" His eyes danced back and forth from their semi shocked faces and satisfied he said "Good," and turned his attention to the door of the beat down police station.

Kurt thought that police were always the guys in blue but it didn't seem that way for this broke ass part of the town. The squad wore green as was most of Spirit City but God Dammit even night sticks were green. Hell, they weren't even night sticks. They were freakin' batons! Oh well, this is where they kept the tiger from the enemy camp and Kurt needed a one-up and what better than on John Cena?

"Dude, this might be a little unnecessary. Show knows, I know and you even know Kurt, that Paul left me in charge when this crazed man killed off Sabu-"

"Look it Mr. Thursday night, its Monday, so I'm in charge!"

"Well Kurt, Rob is also known as Mr. Monday night," Show interrupted as Rob nodded in agreement.

"I don't care. Rob you can shove it up your sweaty big ass!"

"Kurt, you shouldn't be talking," Show added.

"Oh, God Dammit, Show! Shut up. You suck at this 'RVD is the boss' crap! You both know that I can break your ankle, so WOOOOOO. Shut up and let's do this."

The three of them began to walk in unison toward the green police door, hearing the prep anthems blaring from the Spirit CD behind the door. "Gosh, this stuff does really get the juices flowing," Kurt thought. "Wait, that's not what I mean."

"Dude, if it goes bad, don't tell Paul. His hairline will recede further back."

The other two nodded in agreement as they entered the facility. It was a small building with only a couple of cells. Mitch sat there with his feet propped up on the table. He threw nuts in his mouth as he looked up. "May I help you?" he said as he stuffed his mouth.

Kurt's eyes looked at the two cells in the room and noticed they were empty. "Damn right you can help me. Where in the hell is John Cena!?"

"Vince-O-Mac came and P-A-Y-ed him out."

"Damn!," Kurt looked at Show and Rob. "We're late!"

"Dude, calm down. The veins in your neck look like they are about to explode. And man, Paul won't like that."

"I don't care what Paul likes. Hell, he could like nuts for all I care!," Kurt's head bobbed insanely as Mitch rose to his feet.

"Cool down, friends. Speaking of nuts wanna try some of mine?"

Kurt's eyes fell down to the half eaten container that lay in Mitch's hand. "Why, thank you. I would love to try some of your nuts."

Rob crossed his arms and smirked at Big Show as Kurt began to pop the nuts in his mouth.

"Holy-Gosh-Damn-Panny-Wanny Smokes! There ARE some gold metal nuts!"

"You think? They are G-O-L-D AWESOME!"

"They really are, where did you get them?," Kurt glanced at Mitch as he stuffed his face.

"Oh, from Chris Master's mom."


	17. Chapter 17

The man grunted incoherently and stumbled up to his feet. John rushed to him and held his arm gently. Noticing the unwelcome help, the man drunk pushed him off. "Hey, whoa! Take it easy," the man suddenly said. John knew then that he loved this man completely. His heart felt light and fluttering in his chest. He could barely breathe. The man's voice was deep and sweet with a tinge of a southern accent.

"Are you okay?," John looked at him lovingly. His head felt light and his nerves were shaking beneath his skin. He couldn't even think straight. He was drunk on excitement. "You're out of it. Home run, grand slam! Out of the park!," John smiled at his own silliness. "Oh, no better yet, you're as out of it as the Pittsburgh Pirates-," John giggled not caring if the drunk man even slightly understood.

"Alright! Enough of that shit!," Randy looked at the man next to him saying some baseball nonsense. He vision was blurry but he noticed the dimpled smile and joyous eyes and immediately took it as a flirtation. "Oh No! Better Yet: I'm out of you league!" The man's boyish smile slowly faded away. Randy not caring began to walk away.

"OOOOOO-Kay! I guess you're not a sports fan," John said to himself as he began to following the stumbling man. From behind he heard the familiar honk of Eric Bicshoff's car. Shit. Well, John if this kid wants nothing to do with you might as well get back to work. Randy could feel John's presence turn away. Was he going to have sex with that man? Randy tried to picture the man who had tried to help him but nothing came to his head. All that came to Randy was the sound of John's voice. It didn't seem the voice of some sleazy hustler.

"Hey there, you little thug," Eric said to John as he approaches the vehicle. John gives a phony little laugh. "You're looking cute as always," Eric's eyes suddenly twitch to the rear view mirror. John could see in it the beautiful figure of the drunken man. "But then again," Eric put the car in reverse and backs up to meet Randy. "I just spotted something cuter," Eric gave him a sleazy smile and shook the wave of his hair out of his face. "You look new around here," he said to Randy. "So, tell me how much you goin' for?"

Randy stops and drunkenly staggers toward Eric, "I hope you didn't confuse me with some trashy, fucking hustler." He squinted his eyes with a tinge of anger and said, "Because I would hate to have to mess up your car." Randy smacked the hood of his car for emphasis. Eric surprised by the sudden change in appearance drove off.


	18. Chapter 18

I know crazy. I'm not the kind of person who throws around that word. That word, it's personal.

Kelly is crazy, the girl who is living with us. This girl who sits on my couch in her cheap, skimpy bra and panties set, she's completly fucking insane.

"I used to see the monkeys,...all the time. Take off my top, monkeys."

She does this all day. It reminds me of my mother in her nursing home rocking chair, talking incoherantly about nothing. Her eyes are always glazed over.

"Monkeys never stop screaming." I admit I find this amusing. I'm a housewife with nothing to do except watch, watch this mes live ut her life on my couch. She unhooks her front bra clasp.

"The zoo is nice, too many eyes."

She leans her perky naked tits against the arm of the couch. Her eyes staring off into space.

"Never watching me, monkeys screaming." Her hands push her panties off her skinny hips and down to her ankles. She sits up and stares down at herself.

"No monkeys."

She's not even old enough to drink but I can't help watching her with a lustful look in my eyes. I just can't stop watching her.

"I can take off all my clothes."

"I know, you are very good at that." My hand creeps across the couch and lightly grazes over her thigh. I don't remember wanting to do that. Her smile, robotic, lifeless. This pretty little Barbie doll.

"It's all for you." I pull my hand away. Her glazed over eyes turning in my direction.

"I like your clothes, his clothes, so pretty."

She's crazy, compleltly off her fucking rocker. Doesn't anyone else see that or are they too distracted by her body? Isn't anyone else scared of her?

"I like you Mel. Do you want anything?"

"I want you to go away bitch." She smiles and plays with her little pink nipples, but she doesn't get up.

"You know your husband sucked. I'm happy Sabu is dead. A waste of oxygen, that's all he was."

"I value your opinion." I laugh at her, loud and obnoxious, but her face doesn't change, not even for a second. She just rolls her thumbs over and over again across those little mounds of flesh.

I used to see the booeyman when I was little. Yesterday I looked out my car window and saw a pirate being pushed on a stretcher by some homeless kids. Now I see this. People dare call me crazy.


	19. Chapter 19

"Yo, don't get too hot-headed here," John said moving over to him.

"Why are you still in my face?," Randy grimaced at him. "Don't you have someone you should be doing?," Without seeing it, Randy felt John's face become hard and angry.

"You wanna start some shit," John mocked a smile. "Then lets start some shit," he wouldn't have minded fighting this man down. It seemed easy. He was drunk. Maybe then, it would give John a reason to touch him and that's all that seemed to be on his mind: touching him.

"I don't waste my time playing with trash like you," Randy stumbled

"Hey," John hands braced Randy gently. "Are you alright?"

Randy pushes him violently away, "Don't touch me! I don't need your fucking help." Randy made some futile attempts at walking away when he felt John arm slip under him. It seems his knees gave way and he couldn't control his feet.

He heard John's sweet whisper in his ear, "Look, I know you don't like me, or you have some problem with me but," John held tighter to Randy. Randy felt the solid brace of his arm and hardness of it. It was stable and comforting to his back. "Blasted is blasted, and you, my friend ARE BLASTED," John voice reached an obnoxious two octaves higher.

Whoa! John almost had Randy there. Randy never heard such a soothing whisper and felt so comforted by a man's touch but it didn't matter anymore. That kid was a dope. Randy rolled his eyes and made an attempt at departure when John sent his hands out to help him.

"Well shit," John smiled. "Since, you are such lovely company," John made an attempt to get Randy to sit down. He couldn't go any further with all that liquor in his system. "Let's talk."

"I don't want to fucking talk," Randy's voice was slurred, slow, and almost incoherent.

"Why not?," John lifted his palm up from emphasis. "We seem to have a LOT in common," John's voice moved in every which way. "I fuck guys for money," He moved his hands inward to point to himself. "And, you fuck brick walls for free," He moved his hands to point to Randy. Randy stops and looks at him. Goddamit, he could only see a blur. Who the hell is this guy? What the hell does he look like? "It's practically the same thing," John concluded his joke. He smiled to himself, quite satisfied.

Randy stumbled and grabbed a light post for support and said, "I don't know what it is you want from me but, I'm not going to give some slut like you money when, I can get my dick sucked for free." What the hell was he saying? Randy was suddenly confused with himself and his surroundings. "Just get the hell away from me."

John smiles and backs up slightly. Christ, if you don't give up this man will lose his mind.

"Away," Randy moved his hand in the direction opposite of him and turning his said, "Away, you asshole."

"Alright," John said to himself and turning on his heels, he began to walk to 619 Burritos with a satisfied look on his face. John wanted to turn around and annoy the man further. Maybe then, the man would give up. But, it was pointless.

Randy, sensing John's presence moving away, began to head for home. Who was that man? What the hell did he look like? Why does it matter, Randy? Oh God, his head was spinning. That voice, that whisper was ringing in his ears. He thought he heard it suddenly, so real it seemed. He turned around suddenly with a burst of energy. Nothing. Was that the man's figure moving in the distance? He wasn't speaking in your ear, Randy. That man is gone. He's gone. Randy felt a sinking in his stomach.


	20. Chapter 20

John walks into a small shack of a restaurant. Smelling of dog meat and floor cleaner, it had a reminiscent look of lawless Mexico. He sat down at a table full of familiar friends. Sitting there was Adam, Amy, Carlito, Matt Hardy, his good friend, Chris Benoit and Chris's lap dog, Gunner Scott.

"There was no such thing, Adam," Amy coaxed her excited Boyfriend.

"GODDAM, I saw him," Adams eyes were wide. "GAH, Carlito, you have to believe me. I saw the boogeyman!"

John looked at them with quizzical eyes. "What on God's green Earth you guys talking about?"

"Oh, it's nothing," Amy wrapped her hands around her untouched beer. "Adam is seeing things."

"Damn right I'm seeing things!" He pounded his hands on the table. "I'm seeing the damn boogeyman!"

"Did you find any worms?" John said as he called the waiter over.

"Not that Boogeyman," Adam leaned forward closely, his rapid breaths blowing in john's face. "He has a round head and," Adam looked around anxiously. "And-and big, gleaming eyes," he brought up his hands for emphasis.

"Hey Pollo Loco," John called toward the waiter again. "What's taking you so long?" Chris looked at John suddenly. It wasn't like him to be so forceful. Why the hell did he want to get drunk so much?

"Hold on, Pappi," Pollo Loco moved in John's direction. Rey Mysterio was what most people knew Pollo Loco as but, everyone in 619 burritos knew him as Pollo Loco: The Crazy Chicken. He could practically fly when he wanted to but, since he couldn't fly very far, they called him a chicken. He was one crazy dude always walking around in a flamenco dress. Hence the name: Pollo Loco.

"What's wrong with you?" Chris asked suddenly.

"What?" John looked up. He couldn't stop thinking about that man. He was the strangest thing. He was so magnificent.

"Why do you want drink so much?" Chris asked caringly.

"Here is your beer, Pappi," Pollo Loco set the drink in front of John.

John gulfed it down before answering Chris, "I saw this dude." He stared forward seeing the scene of the arch body moving erotically against that brick wall. "He was-," he cut of his words suddenly. How could he explain? It seemed impossible for Chris to Understand. Oh, but he wanted to make him understand.

"Who was he?" Chris asked. He was worried. John better not get choked up on some guy before he could hook him up with some straight stripper guy friend of his.

"I don't know. He didn't give me his name. God it's strange. It's impossible for you to understand," John sighed, disappointed and confused.

"Try."

"Alright. Here goes nothing," John took a gulp of Chris' beer before continuing. "I found him humping a brick wall."

Chris spit his beer out all over Carlito's shocked face and giant apple,

"Wait," Amy pushed her full beer toward John and leaned forward. "You found some guy fucking a brick wall and this," she looked around. Gunner was staring into Chris' lap and Matt was licking his lips. What a freak she thought. "-This," she paused. "Excited you?"

"UHH..."John gulped her beer down."It was the most..."

"Most what?!" Chris was almost angry. Christ, it's all ruined!

"GAH, THAT'S FREAKY!" Adam looked wild. "Was he gay or something," he put his arms around Carlito. "Cause that would make sense."

"What?" Amy looked at Adam as if he were stupid. Wait, Amy thought. He is. "Anyways," she turned her attention to John. He was staring forward. "Did you say anything to him?"

"I made an ass out of myself."

"I bet he liked it," Adam said triumphantly.

"Shut up, Adam," Carlito looked into Adam's eyes seriously. "It's not cool to make fun of him."

"GAH, God Damn right!"

"Are you okay, Adam?" John asked. This dumb ass was stripping away his fantasy with all his obnoxious comments. "You're really freaking me out."

"I'M FREAKY?! YOU THOUGHT IT WAS COOL FOR A GUY TO CUM ALL OVER A BRICK WALL AND YOU CALL ME FREAKY?!"

"That's not what I meant."

"I tell you what you meant," Adam moved forward excitedly. "That damn Boogeyman was freaky. He freaked the shit out of me!"

"Adam," Amy pushed him back into his sear. "SHUT UP."

"Shit," Chris said to himself.

"Look it, Chris," John said as he downed another beer. "I may-whatever..." He shook his head. He didn't even know what he wanted to say anymore. What was the world coming to? When John didn't know what he wanted to say?! "I'll still go on that date with that guy."

"But, you're all in love with this brickophilliac," Matt said suddenly out of the blue.

"Matt," Amy threw an empty beer bottle at him. "Shut up."

"I'm not in," John stopped himself. "Love."

"Bullshizzna!" Matt added.

"Matt," Amy said.

"What?"

"What did I say?"

Matt sat quietly and stared intently as Adam's bulging eyes. Why does he have Amy? Matt whined to himself.

"I saw a guy," Chris said staring at the bottom of his glass.

"Yeah?" John turned his attention away from Matt's constipated face.

"Doctor Batista," Chris looked at John Sadly. "That Fucker was even more beautiful than The Great Randy Orton." Chris stopped himself. He didn't want to give it away but it was good sport throwing Randy's name here and there. Gunner looked disappointed. No, Gunner thought. No.

"That Randy dude," Carlito suddenly said. "He's pretty cool when on that pole."

Amy stared at Carlito for a long time before saying, "I met that guy once. He's pretty hot but Doctor Batista is my doctor and he is not as hot as The Perfected Work of Art, Randy Orton himself."

"I thought Doctor Batista was a Maternity doctor," Matt suddenly added.

Amy was shocked suddenly. Damn, did she let it slip!?

"Matt, that fact is not cool," Carlito bit his beer drenched apple. So what is the beer was in Chris' mouth? "Doctor Batista is the only doctor in that whole hospital."

"I don't get it," John looked up at the ceiling. "How can someone be as beautiful as they make The Great Randy Orton'?"

"Randy is a bitch," Chris added.

"Yea, but don't guys literally drop dead after seeing him strip?" John really couldn't believe it. "He can't be as beautiful as that guy I saw tonight."


	21. Chapter 21

"Hello, mate!"

"Hi!, Is he awake?! heh heh"

"Come on, wake up!"

"When I say wake, you say up!"

"OK!"

"Wake!"

"UP!!!!!"

Hunter shot up suddenly. What the fuck?!

"Do you need a ride, mate?," A blonde pirate. "I have a lovely stretcher right here if you need a ride," he lightly touched a dirty, beaten down stretcher behind him. Sitting there was two young men and a young lady.

"Hi, heh, heh!" the girl jumped down from the stretcher with a wild look on her face. Her eyes with perfect circles and her mouth was gapping open in an elated smile. "My name is Mickie,"she touched her chest lightly. "These are my friends Paul London and Brian Kendrick."

"This is our leader, Paul Burchill," said the dark headed boy who she identified as Paul London.

"Good Day," Burchill tipped his pirate hat. "I assume that you are the great and mysterious Hunter Herse Helmsley."

"Yeah," Hunter rubbed his eyes and attempted to stand up. "That would be me," Burchill helped him to his feet. "My real name is Paul Leveasque but, that would make too many Pauls." He must have gotten so drunk last night that he passed out on the street. Christ, what the hell is to become of him?

"Well, Mr. Helmsley," Burchill smirked. "The pleasure is all mine."

"I've heard sooooooo much about you," Mickie jumped for joy.

"Yeah, when I say Hunter, you say rox," Brian folded his arms triumphantly as if he had jusr said something clever. "Hunter."

"Rox," London added.

"I'm flattered," Hunter folded his arms and studied the posse before him. Not a bad looking group. Strange but their posse seemed to make sense.

"I thought that you left Spirit City after well," London looked down as if he didn't think it was polite to mention Shawn's death.

"It's okay," Hunter's eyes fell. "I can't leave. Not yet. I need to find out who killed him. It's all that consumes me now. Shawn was everything to me we were-"

"Lovers!," Mickie shouted. London and Kendrick looked away suddenly.

"Best Friends," Hunter finished.

"Well, Friend," Burchill put a comforting hand on Hunter's shoulder. "We have heard so many things about your greatness. I'm sure that you will find the one who wronged you and your legendary friend, The Heartbreak Kid, Shawn Michaels."

"Do you have any idea who could have done it?" Brian asked with a tilt of his head.

"Sometimes..." London looked away. "I go and visit The Undertaker. He-he sometimes tells me things about people."

"Paul," Mickie put her hands on London's shoulders. "What do you mean you visit The Undertaker."

"What?!" Brian looked surprised and almost angry.

"I clean his house for him," London looked at them disapprovingly and everyone including Hunter looked away ashamed of their dirty thought. "He said that it was a plot to lure Hunter. Something about gang wars," London shrugged.

"He's right," Hunter grimaced, holding back his mounting rage. "The night Shawn died. In the hospital, he said something about the guys we were working for. We would jump back and forth from Vince McMahon's a gang and Paul Heyman's gang. They always wanted our help. With us, they could control the streets. We didn't care who we were working for, we only cared for the money and the partying. The night he died, he left to cover some buisness with Vince McMahon. I told him it was dangerous but he assured me that he was going to be fine. The next day after Shawn's death, I went to see Vince but he told me that Paul had done it thinking that we were going to leave his gang. You know, we did it all the time. It was all just one big DX joke. No one really got hurt. We beat people up, humilate them but it never seemed like someone was really going to get hurt. But then-," Hunter stopped himself. Why was he telling these people of all people these things? He could barely even tell himself. He looked at them. Shawn would have liked them, he was sure.

"Who do you think did it?" Paul London asked.

"Look it mate," Burchill laid another hand on Hunter's shoulder. "Whatever you need, The Rat Kids are always here for you." He was refering to them. They called themselves the rat kids...interesting.


	22. Chapter 22

"Look," Paul placed his hands on his tie and tilted his head assuredly. "Kurt it's fine. We will get Vince's gang and we will get them good."

"Paul, I know." Kurt sat down and stared intently to the floor. "It's just that I'm so sick and tired of all this bullcrap. When will all this fighting end? It seems so darn pointless! When will we push Vince off our streets?" Kurt looked up worriedly.

"Kurt, I know, I know how you feel. Trust me. It's only a matter of time, Kurt. It will be all ours soon enough. Just be patient."

"Patient? How can I be patient?! I've been patient for four years?" Kurt stood up and looked down with powerful eyes at Heyman. "Shawn is dead. What do you know about that?"

"Nothing."

"You're lieing."

"Intergrity, Kurt. Do you question my intergrity?"

"Why did you leave Rob in charge."

"I did not leave Rob in charge."

"Bullcrap, Paul. Why are you lieing to me?"

"Kurt, you're the top guy in our gang. How many times do I have to tell you this?"

"That's not what Show and Rob are telling me. That's not what Trish is saying. Hell that's not what Tommy Dreamer is telling me. I'm sick of all this crap, Paul. TELL ME THE GODDAMN TRUTH?!"

Paul shocked at the sudden burst of anger, turned on his heels. The table shook. Kurt was going to get answers even if it meant tearing apart Heyman's office. To Paul's rescue, Kelly came in.

"Paul, should me and Melina go to the zoo?" Her eyes were empty, blank as they stared pass Kurt and Paul.

"Is she okay?" Kurt said under his breath to Paul.

"Yes," Paul said to him. He gave him an evil look. "Of course, Kelly. If Melina says no, you can tell her that I won't give her anymore allowance. Okay?"

"You..are..so...sweet, Paul." She moved closer to him. "I really like you. You're ponytail, it reminds me of a monkey tail. I just...love monkeys." She began to take her shirt off as if she were dancing. It seemed that she heard music inside her head.

"Are you completely out of your empty blonde mind?" Kurt said obnoixiously, shaking his head in several swift rapid motions.

"Kurt," Paul gave him another evil, diappointed look. "She's Sabu's widow. She has gone through a lot."

"I bet she has being married to the loser and all," Kurt said resting his hands on his hips.

"Kurt," Paul got in his face. "I'm very disappointed in you. How could you say that about the suicidal, homicidal, death defying Sabu! He was a VERY great man. He did what he was supposed to do. He followed orders and got the job done."

"Yeah," Kurt glowered. "He really got the job done. More like getting himself done and over with."

"And you wonder why you aren't the leader of this gang," Paul grabbed Kelly's hand and left eyes staring aggressively at Kurt.


	23. Chapter 23

"Hey, what are you doin' That's not cool."

"HA HA HA, I'm setting traps for that bastard!" Adam stood in the mist of a couple shrubs sticking random rat and bug traps around his bedroom window.

"How is a couple of rodent traps suppose to stop this 'boogeyman' of yours?" Carlito crunched on his apple casually.

"YOU'RE NOT BEING SUPPORTIVE!" Adam looked possessed. It felt like a normal day for Carlito hanging with his bestfriend, but damn, where was that girl at?

"HEY! I GOT AN IDEA, HA HA!" He grabbed Carlito's arm and pulled him in the bushes with him.

"Hey, what are we doin', Adam?"

"We're getting a better look at this freak's spot!" Carlito gave him a weird look. Adam sat REALLY close to him.

"Why are you staring at me like that? That's not coo-"

"SHUT UP!" Adam put a hand over Carlito felt weird suddenly. There was something about his behaviour that threw Carlito off. He could feel Adam's breath on his cheek. It gave him chills. "HEY, HEY, HEY, YOU SEE THAT?!" Adam whispered sharply

"Hmm?" Carlito tried to take Adam's hand off his mouth but, Adam kept it firmly to his lips. Carlito looked to what Adam was referring to instead. SHIT! It was her.

"What the hell is SHE doing here?" Adam pulled Carlito closer to speak more quietly to him. "She's a spy I bet! HA HA! She can't trick us!" Adam smiled a stupid smile. Carlito chuckled into Adam's hand but in truth, he was nervous. He didn't want Adam to know the real reason SHE was here.

"Hey, what are you two faggots doing in the bushes?"

"GAH! She saw us!" Adam scrambled out of the bushes and pointedly madly. "GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE YOU STUPID CANADIAN CUNT!"

"Adam, you're Canadian."

"HA HA! I know, that's the point!"

"Um...not cool," Carlito added.

The girl just looked at Carlito, "So you said to meet you here."

"WHAT? What's she talking about, Carlito?"

How was he supposed to tell Adam this? He was already hiding more than he should from his bestfriend.

"Look, if you don't want to score then, fine by me," she got back in her car and sped off.

"FUCK YOU, TRISH!" Adam yelled. He then looked at Carlito, "SCORE? You hustle for TRISH?!"

"No, not that kind of score, Adam."

Adam's eyes widened. This day was definately not cool.


	24. Chapter 24

Coffee and Advil...I need coffee and Advil.

Randy Orton crawled out of bed. His lanky body crashed onto the hardwood floor and he let out a groan. His headache was awful and his body was completly sore. Another fucking hangover. This one was especilly bad.

He poisened me, that fruit poisened me!

Randy got to his knees but couldn't manage to lift his head and look up. His eyes were working their little sockets off trying to adjust to the sunlight streaming through his bedroom window.

He remebered walking home, or stumbling home. He remembered being stopped by someone and being really angry, someone with a car, probobly Chris bitchin' to him.

He had a date tonight, he remembered that much. A good girl, sweet, young, pretty, and a good cook. Randy never had time to get girls himself. He was to caught up in life, but he felt different about this. The way Chris described this girl, it was worth taking a chance on, Chris never did like too many girls.

Randy finally crawled to the bathroom and placed his hand on the sink. With alot of effort he pulled is body to a standing position and opened the medcine cabinet to find breakfast. His knee banged into the sink and he grimaced in pain.

"Fuck!" A stinging pain trailed up Randy's leg and ino his head. He rolled up his pant leg and found that his knee had been scrapped to hell and back.

"What did Masters do to me?" He rolled up the other side to find his other knee in the same condition. Then it hit him. Randy eyes bulged and he undid his pants.

Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck

His hangover symtoms were gone now, washed away by fear of the unknown. What the hell happened last night?

Randy's hand slowly trailed into his pants. It didn't take more two second of touching for the pain to shoot through his body again.

"AAAAHHHH! What the fuck!" He couldn't bare to see what it looked like down there. He just hoped it was still ok. Poor little Randy Jr.

Damn, and I as hoping to get some.

Then it hit him, it couldn't of been Masters. I forced Masters to leave last night. I saw him walk out.

A voice, he could remember a voice. It was a smooth deep voice, comforting and almost sensual.

That's the cocksucker who did this to me

He swallowed down three pills and looked in the mirror. Cuts on the side of his face, swollen lips. His hands were cut up too. Why couldn't he remember something, anything.

God damn if only I could remember his face.


	25. Chapter 25

She called me. I didn't think she would do that. I was in a daze that night when I foolishly wrote down my number on a napkin she had in her glove compartment. I would never have done it, if I expected her to really call me.

I talked to her for what felt like hours. A little awkward converstaion, that made me look over my shoulder. My hands sweaty all over the phone, like they were on the little stick of eyeliner I wrote my number with. I didn't even think of lying to her, I should have.

I brought up the zoo, I told her that I had to take this crazy chick and that I was going to be there all day. I told her I really did need to leave. I could tell by the change in her voice she thought it was a date.

"Can I come too, Mel?" The way she says my name makes it sound unreal.

"Why?" I asked, blind of her true intentions

"I just want to see what she looks like, this girl you are going with." I pictured her little powty face and smiled.

"Steph, there is no one but you." I told her. I should've taken it back. What have I gotten myself into? What am I thinking anymore?

A small laugh came through the phone, into my ear, branded into my mind. My hands felt like water. What have I gotten myself into, I ask myself again

"O.k. then shall I meet you there?"

"What?"

"Shall I meet you there?" The door had opened and in came Kelly's blond head. If I had a heart it would have died from panic.

"Zoo picnic?" Kelly asked in her usual manner, like a three year old child.

"Yes, there, yes." I said into the phone in a hurried whisper. Kelly's hand touched my shoulder and the panic rose again.

"Where, Mel?" That name, dammit she said my name again

"In the monkey house." I hung up and turned quickly to face Kelly. Her eyes were bulged like she just heard a government secret. I just hope that it isn't my secret that she is so interested in. This is the only secret I would risk my life for, or someone elses.

"MONKEYS!!!" She screamed as she began to jump up and down. I grabbed her wrist with my sweaty hand to try and calm her but she just slipped out of my grip.

"Kelly, stop! We won't go if you act like this." My words were in vain. The girl stripped her clothes off so fast, it was like a Diva Search girl's career. I admit though, I did let out a smile as she pressed her skinny little body against mine for an awkward tight hug. This girl, she was just fine: loving, trustwrothy, and easy to please. I wiped my sweaty hands off on her back and I smiled even more.


	26. Chapter 26

"Rat Kids roll call!" Burchill yelled as the rat kids scrambled to there usual spot under highway 21.

"Mickie!" Mickie James screamed as she plopped her ass on a strecther.

"Brian!" Brian Kendrik yelled as he sat next to her.

"Paul with a London!" Paul said taking a seat on the curb. Burchill looked at them all with a smile. He couldn't help but to feel as if they were his own kids.

"What did ye bunch of scalewags discov'r?" Burchill pointed to Mickie. Mickie stood up enthusiasticly.

"Well Capt., it doesn't look good." she said frowning. " The war is going to start real real soon, everyone can feel it, it's like, um, in the air! I heard from reliable sources that Kurt and his posse went after John, but they were unsuccessful." She took a pause to look at the reaction from her audience. No one looked cheerful.

"So Heyman is really going to take action against Vince's gang?" Brain questioned her.

"Well that's the question really, no one knows whether or not Kurt was acting on Paul E.'s orders or not. We all know how Kurt can be at times. He has a tendency to lose control and not think things through."

"Well have any o' ye tried ta question them?" Burchill asked. Mickie laughed a little.

"Talk to them? Directly? No. They are all so hostile now the only actual gang member we can talk to now is Matt, and that is just because no one tells him anything anyway." Mickie replied.

"Yeah, that guy sucks. I wish he would die." London said with a smirk.

"He can't die. Indestructable soul, remember?" Mickie said. "Anyway, now that Hunter is back in town, things are going to go nuts, and I'm not talking about Masters' mother's nuts either. You all remember how it was before Shawn died. All that fighting over who would get Generation in their control. Well, it might happen again." Mickie let her words sink in before she had a seat on the stretcher. They all remembered what the war was like, the brutality of it. They also remembered what Shawn was like and what a hard loss it was for everyone. Shawn was known for making everything all right and even could crack a joke at the hardest time and have everyone laughing again, and now without him, there would be no more jokes, no more good times.

"Well does anyone else have er sumtin' they'd like ta add?" Burchill asked, looking at his kids sad heavy with sad thoughts.

"Yeah," said Brian, "Trish has now...moved to Paul's side."

"What!" Mickie and London said together.

"I know, but reliable sources tell me that she sensed the heavy tension and took the protection Paul E. offered her. I don't know about the drug ring though, I believe it is still going on, but who could be so sure it will last."

"But half the people she deals to are one Vince's side, that is half her customers! Is she crazy?" Mickie yelled.

"No, she isn't. She knows that crackheads aren't loyal. She also knows that the customers will follow her, even if that means going from Vince's side to Paul's." Brian sighed. Things just seem to be getting worse and worse. "Also, um, this may not be important but Kelly, Sabu's widow, is now living with Heyman."

"Thanks Brian," London said, "but I have some good news. Cena has... a date."

"Really!" Brian exclaimed, "Is it with me?" London gave Brian a really stupid look and contined.

"No, it's with that stripper guy, the one that everyone is talking about over and the Red Velvet." The whole group gave a collective smirk.

"So Cena has a date with the hottest guy in town and this is supposed to be good news?" said Brian.

"Of course!" Mickie yelled. Brian stood up and stepped in front of everyone.

"No, this isn't good new! It's just bad on top of bad on top of bad! If John ends up really liking this guy then Paul's group will use it against him. He will become distracted and we don't need that! John's always been known for keeping a cool head but if you throw this guy into the mix, it could change things, seriously change things!" Mickie stood up to and got into Brian face.

"So what you are saying Brian is that John Cena doesn't deserve to be happy and in love because it could inconvince us. Is that what you are saying." Mickie getting serious isn't something that happens everyday. The guys were struck by it.

"No, that's not what I'm saying anymore." Brian said, feeling a little whipped.

"I think we should go see Taker. He will tell us what's up." London said out of nowhere.

"Argh, I think you be right. Rat Kids Away!" Burchill screamed as he hoped onto the stretcher and the Rat Kids began to puch it down the dirty street.


	27. Chapter 27

"Tell that faggot Masters that I'm not coming to work today, and if that faggot calls my house again, I'll have him fired." Randy said into his small portable phone.

"Why don't you tell him yourself?" Chris said on the other end. Randy sighed and laid down on his bed.

"Because, then I would have to talk with him and there is still that possibility that he is the one that did this to me in the first place so, no, I'm not going to give that asshole the time of day!"

"Look, go to the hospital, get the doctor to give you some smelly ointment, and be ready for work in two days." Randy heard the click of Chris hanging up and he slammed the phone down on the reciever. Truth is, Randy wished he could go to work; he wanted to be up there, with the footlights shining on him and only him, with the shitty music blaring, with Kane drooling in the back row. It was where he belonged.

Randy got up off the bed, slowly so not to hurt his prized possesion, and walked toward his closet. He was still going to go on that date. He had been looking foward to it so much that he called Chris so many times he had lost count. He just wanted to make sure he knew exactly where to go, exactlty what time, exactlty how much money to bring, what deoderant to wear, the whole fucking nine plus some yards. There was going to be no fuck ups tonight. If he could get all those Red Velvet customers to fall head over heels for him, it shouldn't be to hard to get this girl to do the same.

He shifted through shirt after shirt until he found what he wanted: A suit coat that belonged to his dad. Randy didn't care what people always said about how car salesmen dressed, he knew he looked good in the coat and that was all that mattered, looking good. He pulled the coat on over his shoulders and turned to the mirror on the closet door. "Randy" he said to himself, "you are a god."

He smirked into his mirror and ran his fingers through his hair. He didn't look as good as he usually did, he still had a cut on his lips and his eyes had these bags that looked liked they were carrying led, but hey, didn't matter that much. His fingers began to trace over that little cut on his lip and he started to think, trying his hardest just to remember.

Look, I know you don't like me, or you have some problem with me but...

That voice again. It kept haunting his thoughts. It felt like it would be there forever, like a bad case of herpes. That reminded him, he really should go get tested, especilly if Masters was the culprit in this crime against Randy's manhood. Everyone knows that he is the most diesease-ridden human being to walk the streets of Spirit City, ever since that one nuclear test faculity thing. Whatever, Randy thought, revenge for another day. For now, he had to get ready, he would be leaving in an hour.


	28. Chapter 28

Drug money was her control. It seemed like the only thing that mattered. All that dirty cash sitting in an offshore bank account was her excuse.

Trish used to be such a good girl. She would go to church every Sunday, never flirt with boys, and she always did well in school. Now Trish Stratus was a name that parents feared. It meant doom for their children who got caught up in Trish's game. She couldn't even recall how it all started. How finding a dime of pot on a sidewalk coming home from school could turn into an entire ring of crack, coke, and H.

Now she delivered to an entire city. She had an empire of feeding the veins and lungs and blood of the sick and the poor and the desperate. They came from all sides of the spectrum, from preist to hustler, from old to the very young, all for taste of the pleasures that she offered. And they paid her well in return. Too well. She now had too much money and it had nowhere to go. She had no one to spend it on but herself and the brand new pink cadillac she bought was the last thing on her list.

Trish sighed. Thinking of these things was exhausting. It would be so easy to pick some person off the street, call them her lover, and buy them the moon, but she couldn't do that. She was always a fool for the idea of true love, but what kind of love would she find in her world where the only love was for the next fix.

The moon was for sale with no one to give it too, the sun and stars need a new owner, and the world is up for bids, but who, she thought to herself, who could I give these things to. Only one name came to mind, but it's a name Trish chose to ignore a long time ago.

"Why does this still bother me? I'm stronger then this, right?" Trish asked to the air. "And besides, I'm on the other side of the tracks now. Paulie would have me killed if I even tried...but." She stopped. These kind of thoughts only drag people down.

"There is no harm in just watching her, is there?" The air gave no response. Trish just giggled into her hand. "No, I didn't think so either."


	29. Chapter 29

"Hey Kurt! Dude, I looked up that number to that clinic for you. They say if you blow them man, they'll give you that ass reduction thing for half off." Rob yelled down the street. Kurt only sighed. He's had enough of this crap. It wasn't even the ass jokes that got to him anymore. It was everything.

"Dude, should I tell them yes or what?"

"Rob, don't make me come over there and break your freakin' ankle. I will you know. You know I can." Kurt shook his head up and down so that Rob would know he was serious. Rob just laughed as he grabbed a cigerette from his pocket and lit it, or at least Kurt thought it was a cigerette.

Kurt stared down the empty street. It has been like this for days now, standing on the same corners, looking only at Rob smoking at various other points along the street. They couldn't keep doing this everynight. Customers didn't come for them anymore. Vince's side had the young bucks and that was what everyone was looking for. Kurt and Rob had been on these streets for years. "We own these damn streets." Kurt said to himself pacing back and forth along the sidewalk. He was pacing like a tiger in a cage, trapt in a dead end. It made him so angry.

Kurt hands were clenched into tight fists. His veins looked like mountains on a globe, sticking out violently from his bald head. He saw a car come down the street and tried to calm down, but he couldn't.

The car stopped in front of him. It was a long white limo with two huge longhorns perched on the hood. Seeing those damn horns, made him that much more pissed off.

"Hey, you up for ridin' a bull tonight." The man in the back called from the tinted window. All Kurt could see was the rim of the man's cowboy hat and he knew who it was.

"Hell no Bucko! And if you don't get out of here right now, I'll go psycho on your ass, yeah, yeah that's what I'll do!" Kurt was moving now like a boxer in his corner before a fight. This guy wasn't welcome around here. Not after what happened.

"What the hell's wrong with you boy! You shouldn't discriminate against Texans!" JBL yelled, finger pointing rapidly out the window towards Kurt.

"Dude, what the hell!" Rob said as he joined Kurt at his side. "You don't belong around here anymore man." Rob said back to JBL. Kurt rushed towards the white limo before Rob could hold him back, fists still clenched. With his right fist, he swung at the door of the limo, leaving a dent like a crater in the side.

"Look here Prick!" Kurt spat in JBL's face. "If you weren't trying to score on the other side, a friend of ours would still be here! You remember him, don't cha! The guy who got impaled on those damn horns! The guy who died on your f-in' car!" Kurt's eyes, usually that pretty pale blue, now looked like hell fire. He stomped toward the front of the limo and grasped the horns with both hands. He didn't know what he was going to do exactly, it was like he was sleeping yet still walking.

"Yo Kurt, calm it down man!" Rob yelled just in time for Kurt to rip the horns right off the hood of the limo. JBL yelled at his driver to move. A normal man couldn't do what Kurt just did, even if he "hulked up" like that idiot used to do back in the way day.

"If I see this car again, I'm going to use these horns and make you tap so hard that you cry Uncle!" Kurt said, his hellfire eyes glaring at the Hispanic guy who was driving the limo.

"What the hell are you talking about man?" Rob asked Kurt as the limo sped away.

Kurt didn't answer. He just walked away. He didn't know where do go, or what to do with the horns he was holding, but he just kept going. Word would get back to Paul of this, word would get to everyone. Kurt was going crazy and soon everyone would know it.


End file.
